Depraved Innocence
by Blood Hunter
Summary: Trouble comes to Metropolis, or has it always been there? Either way, its next stop is Smallville. What does it know about Clark Kent, and why is Lex Luther determined to stop it? OC. Please R&R.
1. Prologue: First Night

**Author's Notes: **So this is something I've been working on for a while. Just a little something. This is just the prologue. If you want the first chapter I'm gonna need some reviews telling me that you want one. Otherwise, if no one wants one, there's no point in writing one. Flames are welcome as well. Critiques are welcome, and more appreciated than Flames. Praise is also welcome, but in this age, praise is a rarity few can afford to give.

Prologue: First Night

It's the city that never sleeps, not the people. In truth the people of the city sleep quite well, some in their rich penthouse apartments, others in their brick houses, and still others on the streets themselves. Lights are supposed to keep darkness away, but these dim city lights keep the starlight away, while serving as a blanket for the true darkness, the darkness of men's hearts. Unspeakable crimes are committed under the blanket of nightfall, in fact one was happening right now.

"Hey baby..."

Males are the worst sinners when it comes to sins of the flesh. Their flesh drives them, the animalistic instincts of nature decide their actions. Men are driven by their minds some say, where women are driven by their hearts. Some disagree, some say that men are driven by their heart's most basic instinctual desires, where women are driven by their most deeply routed emotions that keep the primal feelings at bay. Perhaps women are more driven with their minds than men are, perhaps not.

"Leave me alone!"

There are many sins in this world. The loss of life, the loss of property, the loss of money, and so many more. The worst sin however is the atrocity that is committed every day, every hour, in every city: Loss of innocence. Life has a way of destroying innocence, others merely help it along, that is what so many have come to believe.

"Now that's no way to talk baby..."

Depravity. It is the opposite of innocence. All men have it. All women hide it. It is concealed within the innocent shell of the human body. When the innocence is stripped away from the human shell, the soul shines forth with its true darkness the overwhelming depravity of man and woman.

"Somebody help me! For God's sake!"

God. The only entity in the universe infinitely knowledgeable, infinitely powerful, and infinitely benevolent. Innocent, yet with full knowledge of the penetrating depth of the depravity of the human soul. He was forced to watch the masterpiece creation of humanity be twisted and destroyed over the millennia.

"Ain't nobody here but us, and we're gonna have a fun time."

How can a depraved man gain back his innocence once he has lost it? Can the fragile pieces of a broken shell be forged together again, and if they can, what can hold them? How can man atone for his life, can he even do it at all? It is said that life is made of crossroads, never a straight path. This means that in life there is an infinite number of chances. It means that man is presented constantly with the choice between right and wrong.

"No!"

Some say that living is an automatic function of the body. Blood being bumped through the veins as the heart pumps it over and over again. Others say that to live is to think, and without thought one cannot truly live. In trying to atone for their life, for their wrong actions, many men change their living. Some stop their heart, stop their lives. Others stop their thinking, they change their beliefs they change their religion, they change their very minds. Others realize that living is more than just being alive, and thinking, it is action. To act is to live. This truth brings some to change more than their lives, more than their minds, it makes them turn at the crossroad.

"Shut up bitch."

The men here, they have no appreciation for innocence, they think only of their depravity. Their depraved flesh drives them onward to the point where innocence is stolen from another victim. It is something that happens every day, every hour, in ever city. Unnoticed by those who do not care to see, untouched by those who refuse to act.

"When are we gonna get this over with?"

They are held in by their fear, a natural animalistic instinct that is found in all of mankind. Fear keeps them safe, protects them from harm and danger. The simple minded majority of the world were content to live in their cage and look at the outside world, never truly seeing. There are only a few, a marginal minority that truly see what happen.

This man was one of them, this man that stood above the scene watching, looking outward from his broken cage as he tried to piece together his broken shell. Looking was one thing, thinking another, now it was time for action.

The men below grunted and called at the running woman as though they were starved predators running down their prey. Five men, one woman. The brightly colored eyes of the woman sparkled with a fiercely burning flame as she ran. The primitive instinct of fear burning through her soul, willing her to survive. The depravity of five men burning to end her life over nothing more than enjoyment. Such was the depth of their depravity.

In this man's eyes, they each deserved what they were so eager to give and had doubtlessly given before. Death comes to each man once, and only once. With death there are no crossroads. Was death truly his to give, or did that make him no better than these men?

"Let the woman go. In return for your debt."

The five men stopped as one man stood between them and the woman as if he had been there the entire time. His fingers uncurled as his hands dropped to his sides. His dark clothing shrouded him in the shadows of twilight that filled that streets on which they stood. His long coat reached to the middle of his calves and hung motionless in the still air of the night. His face was uncovered, his head full of long red hair that was combed back and gelled to stay that way. His sharp features were turned down in an eternally blank expression and his tone of voice was deep, almost as if it were the space itself speaking.

"What the hell you talking about?" One of the men asked as he flipped open the knife in his hand, a weapon he had apparently been itching to open. "We don't owe anybody any money. Now back off, or it's your ass."

The man didn't move, his green eyes merely turned towards the man who had spoken to him. They burned with the same primitive fire that the woman's eyes burned with as she continued to run, not thanking the stranger that had just saved her life. Such was the way of mankind.

"What you think you're some tough shit don't you?" One of the men asked moving forward, a baseball bat in his hands patting his palm with it as though he were a metronome timing the patience of the stranger that stood before them.

The man with the knife had apparently had enough, the predator's prey was getting away, and he didn't like it. He moved to run after her, but was stopped as the stranger's forearm collided with his throat, close lining him as he tried to run past the stranger. The man's feet rushed forward without him, and his body fell to the ground, the back of his head slamming into the cold street beneath as his eyes closed in unconsciousness. It seemed to happen in slow motion to those who were watching, and it seemed to be unbelievable to the remaining four men of the pack that had been chasing the woman.

"What the hell?!" A man shouted as he moved forward and grabbed the man's knife. Rushing towards the stranger's side as though to stab him with the knife. The man with the baseball bat swung straight level at the man's head at the same time, hoping to do some damage and teach this punk a lesson.

The stranger grabbed the man who was diving at him by the wrist of the hand that held the knife with his right hand. His left arm came up and blocked the bat's swing with his forearm splintering the wooden bat as he did so, as though it had just swung into a brick wall. His right hand twisted the man's wrist so far that one could hear an audible crack as the bones' ligaments ripped off of them and the bones splintered into several pieces.

Two of the men took off running in the opposite direction of the long gone woman, the direction that they had come. The one who had swung the bat cussed violently as he threw away the remainder of the bat and took a swing at the man with his fist. The stranger's left foot came up and kicked him in the jaw in a sweeping kick that hooked the man's head and brought it to the right down to the ground.

The stranger released the wrist of the man that he was holding, the thug had dropped the knife when he had lost feeling in his hand. His eyes stared off towards the two men that were running. They were running as though they had nothing else to live for, they were running as they had made the woman run just minutes before. The primitive flame of fear burning within them, willing them to survive. Would they change their lives? Would they take a turn at the crossroads that they were presented with in life?

One could only hope.

The stranger picked up the knife that the man had dropped and wiped it off on his pant leg. He closed it and stuck it in the pocket of his coat.

"So this is Metropolis... Beautiful."


	2. Old Promises Broken

**Author's Note:** So I wrote a first chapter. If you read it, please let me know if you like it. If I should change the writing style or whatever. Thanks.

**Laura: **Well, you wanted it, so here it is.

**1:****Old Promises Broken**

When did it all start, this fascination with the unknown? This fascination exists in every man. Usually it is turned into fear, that primitive emotion that keeps us safe. Sometimes however, in some unfortunate circumstances, this fascination becomes a driving force in one's life determining the course of their actions.

"Hey Chloe."

The scene was an old coffee shop, well, a new coffee shop in an old fixed up cinema. How much things change in a century, it would amaze even the most complex mind. A waitress stood behind the bar as several customers sat around with their drinks and their friends, a short haired blonde being the newest addition to the group of people at the counter.

"Hey Lana. Can I get an espresso?" The blonde asked with a smile as she rested her purse on the counter.

"Coming right up." The waitress said with a smile as she turned around to use the rather large gold-colored espresso machine. "How are things at the Torch?" She asked, quickly turning around to see Chloe for a brief second.

"Oh you know. Same old, same old." Chloe said with a small smile. "Principal is watching me like a hawk."

"Such is life." A voice behind her said with a small smile.

"And what does Smallville's local millionaire know about censorship?" Chloe asked with a small smile.

Lex smiled as he looked over Chloe to Lana. "I've had my share of media incidents." He answered Chloe before looking over to Lana. "Lana, can I get an espresso as well?"

"Sure thing Lex." Lana said with a slight smile as she continued to make some drinks.

"Hey Lana, have you seen Clark?" Chloe asked. "His article for the Torch is late. He was supposed to turn it in today."

"Haven't seen him since yesterday." Lana said.

"I stopped by the Kent farm this morning, he was doing his chores." Lex said with a slight nod. "You might want to check his loft."

"Thanks Lex. The Kent's was my next stop." She said with a slight smile as Lana handed her the coffee she had ordered. Chloe placed the cap on the cup of espresso and paid for the cup with a smile. "I'll see you guys later." She said as she left Lex and Lana there at the coffee counter.

Her car was the bright red Volkswagen bug parked directly outside the coffee shop known as the Talon. Within minutes she was on her way to the Kent farm. How many times had she driven this route since she had gotten her car? The buildings, the people, the farms that she passed seem to be passing by quickly though she knew each and everyone of them well enough to see them clearly despite her speed.

Dust kicked up around the car as it turned onto the dirt path that led past the Kent's barn and on towards their house. The car stopped just outside the barn, parking like it always did. Grabbing her purse she exited the car and made her way into the barn.

"Clark?"

Her voice seemed to carry through the large barn uninhibited. The tools and things laying around the lower basement of the barn were put onto the sides of the barn.

"Chloe?"

Clark's answer came from the upper levels of the barn, the loft, where he had a living room area set up, a familiar telescope looking out over the fields and farms beneath him through the open loft doors. The couch set up facing a table on a rug with a few boxes and tables around the outer edge. The young man had been reclining on the couch reading when he had heard Chloe's voice, now he was at the banister looking down towards her.

"There you are. I've been looking all over for you." Chloe said as she began to ascend the stairs that stood between them. "Your article for the Torch is late. I needed it yesterday."

"Oh right. Sorry with everything that happened..." Clark started.

"It's okay. Do you have it? Or should I run this edition without it?" Chloe asked as she finished her ascent up the stairs, standing next to Clark.

Clark moved further into the loft, behind the couch and picked something up off the table.

"I finished it." He said as he handed her a disk. "I just haven't gotten the chance to email it to you yet." He said with his smile ever so slightly held back.

"Thanks." Chloe said with a slight smile. "How was your mom's trip to Metropolis?"

"I don't know. She and Dad aren't coming back till tomorrow." Clark said with a slight shrug.

"So you've had the farm to yourself since yesterday?" Chloe smirked. "No parties?"

"My parents would kill me." Clark shook his head.

Chloe's laughter was restrained under her breath, she seemed to understand Clark's respect for his parent's wishes.

Chloe was a girl with an avid fascination with the unknown. It was more than just curiosity, more than her duty as a reporter, it was an obsession. It was the one force that drove her innocent shell to uncover the depravity in those around her, in those she didn't know, and in those she knew. When it came to depravity she had seen so much of it, so much innocence lost, so much corruption.

Corruption. It is the process by which something innocent becomes something depraved. It is the very standard by which some men live. There are many accusations leveled against those that the world deems as corrupt, none of which are usually true. Some innocent people sell their innocence for money, mere currency. For some, this mere currency is their only passion, their only desire in life. Such corruption is worse than depravity. It spreads and releases the hidden depravity of man like a ripple in the water. No one knows if the corruption can ever be stopped.

"Where do we stand on the Gotham matter?"

"Everything's going according to plan sir."

"Good."

Two men sat in a luxurious business office surrounded by windows and fellow skyscrapers. The sky's gray overcast seemed to fill the room. The one man sat with his chair turned towards the windows behind the desk. The other sat in front of the desk, in one of the two chair that sat facing it. The office was spacious, on the upper floors, it was clear that it was an executive office. The man in front of the desk sat with his hands folded and wringing in his lap. His short crew cut hair seemed to bead with sweat.

"And the Smallville Plant?" The man behind the desk asked as he looked out the window.

"Production is on the rise sir. So are profits." The man answered.

"I see." The man said as he stood up. He turned to face the man. Lionel Luthor was a man who knew his business well, but didn't afford others that same benefit. "Get a hold of McCoy, tell him I want to see him."

"Yes sir." The man said as he stood up. He didn't seem to be too happy to be there, and left rather quickly.

Several moments passed with Lionel looking out of his window looking out over the city beneath him. There was something in his eyes, that seemed to look at the people beneath him as though they were there merely for his own pleasure of watching of them in their day to day lives. Like a child with an ant-farm in his bedroom.

"You wanted to see me sir?" A young man asked as he came forward.

"Yes. I want you to take this to my son in Smallville." He said handing him a manilla envelope.

"Yes sir." The man said coming forward and taking the envelope. He was gone within seconds it seemed that lesser mortals could only stand this holy ground for so long.

Lionel sat back in his chair, looking at his computer screen with a blank expression on his face. His fingers placed neatly together on his chair. His silent thoughts interrupted by a buzzer on his desk.

"Mr. Luthor there's a Cain MacEnghus here to see you. He's not on your agenda but he say's you're expecting him. Want me to take care of him?" His secretary's flowing voice rang in the speaker.

"Send him in." Lionel answered. "I've been expecting him."

"Yes sir." The secretary responded.

Moments later he came through the door. A man dressed in a simple business suit, over it hung a long black coat and peaking out shone a red tie. His shoulder length red hair hung back neatly combed, though it wasn't as long as Lionel's it certainly had a vibrance to it that was much more impressive. His green eyes met with Lionel's eyes as he entered a slight smirk on his face.

"Lionel." He said as he came forward offering his hand.

"Cain." He said shaking his hand. "If that is your real name." Lionel smirked. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I was under the impression you no longer wanted to do business with me."

The man smirked before speaking. "I have no intention of restarting our business relationship." The man said as Lionel moved over to his liquor bar. Lionel raised a glass of Scotch as if to offer some to the man who nodded so as to accept the offer.

"Then what may I ask, are you doing here?" Lionel asked as he poured two glasses of Scotch.

"I hear you reopened the plant in Smallville." The man said as Lionel handed him a glass of Scotch.

"No that would be my son. Lex." Lionel said raising a glass. "He would be the one you're looking for."

"Your son." The man repeated. "You want me to believe that you had nothing to do with it."

"My son has... Left the nest." Lionel said before he took a sip of his Scotch. He walked over to his desk once more and set the glass down.

"So he re-opened the Smallville plant. Contrary to my father's agreement with you. Smallville was to be untouched by you." The man said as he took a seat facing the desk, the glass of Scotch in his hand.

"How is your father? Word is he's disappeared, left his company to his Vice President." Lionel said with a slight smirk.

"Ah, you know the Saint, always off fighting some battle." The man said as he sat down.

"So you've come into control of the company." Lionel said before taking a sip of his Scotch.

"No. It's been taken by another relative." The man answered. "But that is not why I'm here."

"Yes. I understand you're here because you think I've sent my son to re-open the Smallville plant." Lionel answered.

"Don't think I'm so naive Lionel. You know that my family does not want Smallville to be touched." The man said before taking a sip of his Scotch.

"What is your particular interest in this town?" Lionel asked with a hint of curiosity in his voice. "What do you have against a simple factory there? You don't even have business here in the States."

"Our interest is none of your business. We told you stay out of the town. If you won't live up to your end of the deal, we will no longer live up to ours." Cain said as he finished off his Scotch.

"Are you threatening me?" Lionel asked with a tone of superiority in his voice.

"Lionel you may think yourself a god, an untouchable, but don't think that you can't be hurt by your demons. Just some friendly business advice." The man said.

"Get out. If you have any business in Smallville you can take it up with my son." Lionel said, his feelings of anger evident on his face as he spoke.

"I'll do that." The man agreed as he set down his glass on the end table, rising from his seat. "But don't think I'm gone."

Lionel sat in his chair as the man left. He certainly had grown since Lionel had seem him last, but that was the last thing on his mind. His furrowed brow seemed to knot as he rested his elbows on the desk, folding his hands in front of him. What to do... "Lex can handle it himself." He finally said aloud as if those demons that the man had mentioned were there listening to him.

Those demons that haunt men as they work, those depraved men. They don't really exist as far as men can tell, yet they haunt them all the same. Some men ignore them, others are driven mad by them. Madness is what they call a separation from reality, when one's perceptions of reality become out of synch with everyone else's. So if one man perceives a different reality than everyone else, which reality is the real one?

In the reality that we all perceive it is the law that makes the rules. The government passes laws, supposedly for the benefit of the people. The people themselves are an entity, just as the government itself is an entity. The rules are there to ensure the safety and benefit of the people, after all the government knows what is best for the people, don't they? The people entrust them with this control, so the government passes the laws, and yet the people break them.

Morality is defined by right and wrong. In our reality it is the government that decides what is right and what is wrong. There are some however who decide for themselves what is right and what is wrong because they do not believe the government to be proper in authority, they believe that the people and the circumstances determine what is right.

"How long until we get there?"

"A few hours sir."

Morality is one of the luxuries of life. Those who move the currency that they so hungrily desire can afford to pay those who decide the difference between right and wrong to redefine the limits of good and bad.

"Get me there as quickly as possible."

The man who'd just stepped out of Lionel's office seemed to be in a hurry. His red hair seemed like a bright flower in the middle of the concrete garden that was the city. The eyes of the people around him didn't even see him, each obsessed with their own path and their own itinerary that they could hardly see what was before them.

"Yes sir."

The driver of the car opened the door for the man as the man took his seat. The car started, and was off through the concrete garden, and off towards the dirt farm.

"Take me directly to the Kent farm."

"Yes sir."

Respect. It made everyone around you look at you differently. As though they were less than you. Perhaps it was right, perhaps it was wrong. Respect is merely a sophisticated and restrained form of fear. To fear someone is to respect them, in a sense. It was a restrained fear that restrained your actions as well as your mind rather than setting them loose. It was a part of it, yet it was an opposite effect.

The ring tone on a new phone is hardly worth figuring out for at least three days after acquiring the phone. Lex picked up the phone that was vibrating in his pocket. "Hello?" He asked as he put down his coffee cup on the table before him which held the morning's paper. "Dad. What can I do for you?"

The waitress moved silently between tables picking up empty cups and mugs to place on her tray as her eyes turned towards the millionaire when he answered his phone.

"Coming here?" Lex asked with a tone of boredom in his voice. "Well thanks for the concern dad, but I can take care of myself."

The waitress resumed her cleaning of the tables as though she had never paused to listen. After all, eavesdropping was rude wasn't it?

Lex closed his phone, and after shoving it into his pocket he picked up his newspaper. Goodbyes weren't wasted as the bald millionaire left the coffee shop. His coat flowing after him as he walked through the doors.

The bell rang as the door closed behind him. He was at a crossroad at the moment. Which path would he choose?

* * *

**Please remember, **it's kind to review. 


	3. Violated Sanctuary

**Author's Notes:** Okay, so my last chapter was opened more than 50 times, and was even added to someone's alert list, but no reviews. How odd is that? Okay. Seriously. REVIEW! Let me know how I'm doing. Comment on something. A typo, anything. If there's no reviews, there'll be no next chapter. Also, to let you know, this story takes place during the second season, near the Precipice episode where Smallville gets their new sheriff. Also, a bit of a disclaimer, I do not own Smallville or the characters therein, but I do claim ownership over Cain MacEnghus. He is an original character and if you would like to use him for anything I'd appreciate it if you asked me first. Now then, on with the show.

* * *

**2. Violated Sanctuary**

It happens every once in a while, when the time comes, when life decides that it is time for a person to loose their innocence and discover their depravity. The darkness outside seemed to seep inward to the small town café blocked out by the lights near the door. This coffee shop was owned and run by a highschool girl who was just starting her trek into the unknown world. Lana Lang. Music played softly in the background as seven people filled the small shop.

A doctor sitting alone at a table with three chairs. Her purse in one of the chairs, and her hands on the table as she drank the last of her coffee. A man with a newspaper sitting at a table behind her, trying not to seem conspicuous. A red headed businessman, sitting off by himself reading a book as the couple behind him got up and left. It seemed as though the shop were closing for the night, but the three men directly across from him sat on a couch, passing around a flask and making noise simply because they could.

The waitress, the only one on staff at the moment, seemed to be closing up shop, annoyed that these three would keep her here late just to clean up their mess, besides the fact that they were disturbing the other customers.

She made her final rounds after asking them to take it outside, this place didn't allow alcohol. The men didn't seem to pay any attention to her. She talked to the doctor for a few seconds, as though they knew each other, and then continued cleaning up.

The man with the newspaper had left, and now so was the doctor. The red headed man stood as to leave, as the waitress headed back to the counter. "Nice place." He said to her with a nod.

"Thank you." She said as she went behind the counter.

"Lex Luthor owns this place. Right?" He asked as he rested his hands on the counter.

"He's a partner." She emphasized the word 'partner' like nothing else. "Why?"

"Just wanted to make sure I was getting close." He said with a smile. "Are you closing lass, or might I be able to buy another cup and some Danish?"

She smiled. A little confused by his statement, but couldn't help but smile when he called her lass. "Well the machines shut down, but I could get you a Danish."

"Thanks." He said with a smile. "Oh, just one more thing. Do you happen to know where the Kent farm is? They're old family friends of sorts." He didn't seem to see the need to explain any further.

"Yeah. It's down the road about a mile or so. Go down Main street and then take a right Then at the first street you can make a left. Then just go for a while until it turns into a dirt road. Red mail box, can't miss it." She said with a smile. "You know the Kents?"

"Sort of." The man answered. "More like my father did some business with Jonathan's father back before I was born." He shrugged. "I'll be right back lass." The man seemed to walk towards the back of the café, the front doors, as he pulled out his cell phone. The three men waved goodbye to him, he wasn't leaving, and they were obviously drunk.

The three got up after he had passed. Approaching the counter. He closed his phone, deciding he didn't need to make a call.

"Hey, we heard this place had the friendliest service in town..." The blonde one of the three spoke as he approached the counter.

The red headed man seemed to clench his teeth as his eyes began to burn dimly with an unspeakable fire. He moved forward silently, as though he weren't really there.

"Just leave." The waitress said as she turned towards them from behind the counter. The man approached her still. It was like a scene in a movie, only it was real. The girl was scared, fear was evident on her face, and she was slowly backing up until her finger hit the red alarm button mounted on the wall. The man saw her do it. Fear burned in his eyes for only a moment before it turned to rage.

The man grabbed the girl, his two friends stood behind him and watched as he threw her into a shelving rack that held plates and cups for the café. Porcelain broke and scattered on the floor with a noise like muffled thunder. The man reached down to grab her face, but before he could something grabbed him and threw him into his two friends, breaking a chair as they fell down.

"Leave the lass alone." The red headed man stood between them now, his eyes burning with the same viciousness that the villain's eyes were red with.

"What the..." The man said as he stood up. "You think you're so tough?" He asked waving his arms.

The girl was still down on the ground, the fear paralyzed her as she looked at the man who had thrown her. Pushed her. Shoved her like she was nothing. The vulnerability, it scared her and enraged her like nothing else. The innocent shell of the girl was broken like the porcelain cups that surrounded her.

"Stand down." The red headed man said as he stood there brazenly.

"What you think you can take three of us?" The man asked as he moved forward.

The man seemed to become something else for a brief second as Lana looked at him. There was something... undescribable that changed with him. His air, his expression, his eyes, they seemed... animalistic. It was as if three dogs were barking at a bear, a monstrous animal that was burning with the desire to teach these dogs to stay away from the weak and innocent.

The blonde man moved forward as though he were going to fight him, but his eyes met with the redheaded man's. He stopped in his tracks. The man's eyes were changing, they were red now, red enough to match the man's hair, red as though there was blood running behind them.

"Close your eyes girl." The red-headed man said, his voice hard, cold, and flat. It felt harsh, even just to hear it.

She was too frightened to even think. This was all taking place in what seemed like a fraction of a second.

"Stop!" A voice yelled as a farm boy ran in from the front door. His flannel shirt covered by a familiar blue jacket. The men turned to face him, seeming to get annoyed for a brief second.

"Forget this." The one said as he walked started to walk away, going through the front door with his two friends grabbing their stuff and followed quickly behind him.

The red headed man's green eyes met with the farm boy's, a glancing smile seemed to say thank you. "You okay lass?" He said reaching down for her.

"I'm..." She paused. "I'm okay."

"Stay with her lad. The cops are on their way." The red headed man said to the farm boy as he rushed towards the front door.

"Where are you going?" The boy asked with a quizzical look on his face.

"To get my driver, see if he can tell me which way the men went. The police are on their way, we're going to need a vehicle description for the police report." The man said without a smile, he seemed to know an awful lot about how things worked.

"Let him go Clark." Lana said as Clark helped her up.

"Thank you." Lana said with a slight smile to the stranger.

He didn't answer, he merely nodded and left. It seemed that now he was interested in other things.

Anger seemed to transfer from one person to the other. First from the man who had attacked her, then to Lana, then to the redheaded man, and now to Clark. He seemed to be protective of her. He wanted to teach those guys that did this a lesson.

Not a second later he was in the alleyway, a good guess as to where the three had headed, but they weren't there. They weren't walking down the alleyway chatting.

One was on the ground, bleeding as though someone had hit him until they broke through him. The other two were up against the fence, laying as if they'd been thrown there on purpose.

Clark rushed to the one bleeding, checking his pulse. He was alive, but wasn't breathing very well. "What happened?" Clark asked him, but it was no use, the man was out. Clark held him by the shoulders of his shirt with each hand, raising him up a bit, and that was when the lights hit him. Police lights that was. A squad car pulled into the alley and stopped as it reached the twenty foot mark from Clark and the man he was trying to get information from.

"Freeze!" The police-woman yelled as she pointed her standard-issue gun at Clark. The word "Sheriff" was printed firmly on the side of the car.

Clark squinted in the light, looking forward he turned suddenly, as though to try to run, stopping when he realized that Lana was right there. She must have followed after him. A look of confusion lit her face, was he trying to run from the cops?

Clark turned back around and sighed. It was going to be a long night.

Duty. It is something that drives people to do some rather unique things. It is a belief of sorts, some believe in it, some do not. In the instance of a Sheriff one's duty is to uphold the law. Some take this duty lucidly, it means that they stop the bad guys, the thieves, the murderers. Others take this duty to the extreme, and uphold the letter of the law, taking the government as the true dictator of morality rather than some higher or lower standard.

"You gonna tell me exactly what happened out there Mr. Kent?" The sheriff held her cup of coffee in a tight grip as she looked down at the young man sitting before her in the Talon.

"I told you everything I know. I went out after them, found them like that, and tried to see if they were okay." Clark answered.

"Uh huh." The sheriff said as she took a sip of her coffee. "Miss Lang? Did you see anything?"

"No." Lana answered.

"Uh huh." The sheriff said you again. "You realize Mr. Kent that assault and battery is a serious charge." Clark went to interrupt her but she held up her hand as though to silence them. "Now the paramedics are out there doing everything they can for those young men, and you haven't got a scratch on you. You may be strong, but I highly doubt that you could take the three of them, inflict as much damage as you did, and then get away without a scratch on you or a bruise to show for it." She said before sipping her coffee, her eyes never leaving Clark. Her mind must have been racing at all the possibilities that were being presented before her. She had managed to get a little bit of the story out, but it seemed neither of them could remember much about the red haired stranger.

Though he was a suspect there wasn't enough evidence to link Clark to the beating of the men, and besides that they men were going on and on about the demonic thing that had attacked them, they were obviously drunk and might have even been on drugs prior to their beating, and it sure wasn't helping their recovery.

"Well come on Kent. Let's go see your folks." The Sheriff said with a smile.

Punishment. It is the natural consequence given to us by higher authorities when we have gone against their system of morality. The idea that when one breaks the law one is punished is an old concept, as old as the earth itself perhaps. Years ago, millennia, the punishments were more severe. If you stole you lost your hand. If you killed you were killed. If you damaged someone's property, you made restitution. Such ideals have long since been lost to man kind, where ideals of tolerance and peaceful coexistence have replaced them. What has punishment become now?

"It could be a fine of up to fifteen-hundred dollars if those men try to claim that Clark is the one that attacked them." The sheriff said as she stood in the Kent's family living room. Clark was squatting on the couch while his parents stood in the archway between the living room and dining room.

"My family can't afford that." Clark said about to stand up before his father raised a hand to sit down.

"I'm sure whatever Clark did he was trying to help." His mother claimed.

"I'm sure of that Miss Kent, but if the men testify that he attacked them, we'll have no choice but to press criminal charges." The sheriff said with a shake of her head.

"Ma'am I don't know what happened but I know my son would never intentionally hurt anyone." Jonathan said as he put his arms across his chest.

"Well I'm sure you think the best of your son Mr. Kent, but I've done some checking and your son here has been at more crime scenes than most of my police force." The Sheriff shook her head. "Now I don't know what's going on with you boy. Some hero complex, some vigilante mission, but if I catch at one of my crime scenes again, interfering in police business I'll have no choice but to press charges."

"It won't happen again Sheriff." Jonathan said looking to Clark.

"Well see that it doesn't Mr. Kent." The sheriff said as she left. It seemed that her business here was done now that Clark was back with his parents. She needed to get in touch with her force and find out what was happening with the men who were attacked and the girl who wasn't telling as much as she had seen.

Of all the places to live in the world Smallville is probably one of the least renown. It's biggest, and only, claim to fame is the meteor shower that it experienced in 1989. That was about the time that the Luthor's had entered Smallville, and about the time that many lives changed forever. Just a few tiny drops that broke out as tidal waves in the water. The changes were still occurring.

It is said that for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. This applies to physics quite well in some instances, but it is not always true. One action may cause a series of infinite reactions, all of which in lessening as the number of them increases though the initial reactions may be equal to or greater than the original action itself.

For example, Lex Luthor, sitting in his mansion. His head bald as it had been since that fateful day in 1989. His hands rested upon the arms of his chair as he held a glass of brandy in his hand from the cellar beneath the mansion. Verdi's Requiem played in the background, the Soprano doing a wonderful job as she sang with the ensemble. It seemed everything about this very scene was in direct reaction to the meteor shower of 1989. It had changed so much.

The dark night outside did not seem to disturb the stain glass windows that reflected the flickering fire-light coming from the fireplace to the right of Lex's chair. Everything seemed perfect. It was picturesque almost, the millionaire man sat contemplating, sipping his brandy, undisturbed and unconcerned with the rest of the world.

Or was it merely a facade?

"Mr. Luthor. There's someone here to see you."

"Good evening Lex."

Lionel Luthor. He always seemed to make an entrance. Lex had to wonder why the attendant had even bothered to announce the man that seemed to rather enjoy showing up unannounced.

"Hey Dad." Lex said with a slight smile. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" The words seemed to be sincerely dripping of sarcasm as he spoke them.

"Does a father need a reason to come and visit his son?" Lionel asked with a slight laugh as he came into the room that for so long had served as Lex's sanctuary.

The Opera music shut off as Lex clicked the remote, setting down his glass of brandy and rising to greet his father where before he had merely looked over the back of his chair.

"You wouldn't come all the way out here at this time of night unless something was really going on. What was that call about? And what does this... MacEnghus friend of yours want with me?" Lex asked.

Lionel smiled, it seemed his son didn't know half as much as he gave him credit for.

"Well?" Lex asked.

Sanctuary, it is the one place that one can retreat to and reside in complete safety, undisturbed. The innocent shell of one's depraved self returns for a short while within walls of stone and windows made of glass. So quickly this sanctuary can be intruded into, it can be violated.

The millionaire stood in his room embracing a man he had known all of his life as his 'father' and yet knew nothing about. The man who had faked blindness to manipulate those around him. The man who had manipulated everything around Lex for as long as Lex could remember, yet he could not entirely trust the man, despite the bonds of blood between them. He stood alone in the room, the sanctuary that had been so unheedingly interrupted.

The farm boy laid back in his bed, his eyes staring at his ceiling as though they were going to burn a whole through it by staring at it. The glow in the dark stars and planets that decorated the ceiling seemed out of place compared to the other things that decorated his room, pictures and clothes that had been left out of their intended places. His mother closed the door behind her as she left him alone for the night. His eyes turned to the barn outside his window, looking into the loft that held his telescope, the place where he knew he would always be safe, where he went to think, and to contemplate. His sanctuary.

The waitress sat with her knees to her chin on the sofa of the Talon, staring at the other sofa across the café, the one that the men had been sitting in. Tears from her reddened eyes wet her knees, arms, and hands as she cried. No one else was there to help her. No knight in shining flannel to help her up and keep her safe. She was alone, in her violated sanctuary.

* * *

**Please Review! If you read it, Review! Let me know how I'm doing! Flames Welcome!**


	4. Explinations and Introductions

**Author's Note: **Thank you very much to those who reviewed the last chapter. I know a lot of authors tend to reply to reviews via email, I prefer to reply here in the chapter.

**Marymelon3:** Hopefully this chapter will explain the story line a bit more for you. I'm glad you like the fic, and thank you very much for the review and the add to your alert list.

**Shetlandlace:** Yeah, the writing style is a bit different, but I like to experiment with different styles and see what I can do. I'll see what I can do for a visual signal, what kind of thing are you looking for, something that is part of the story, or like a border between scenes? Thank you for the review, and the advice, and for adding this to your alert list. Hope you keep reading!

* * *

**3: Explanations and Introductions**

So many believe they are accomplishing good. They convince themselves that their actions are not for their own profit, but in the end profit others as well. Because of this they believe that what they are doing is 'good.' They have replaced the meaning of the word 'good' so that it means 'beneficial' whether that benefit is for one, or for all, changes from person to person. That is as long as the person does not hold to a higher standard, an unvarying standard, unchangeable by those under it.

Sunlight shot through the stain glassed window of Lex Luthor's office as he sat behind his desk, his computer screen dimly lighting up as he scanned the prospects for the year's end finances. Work as always for Lex. His fingers strummed gently on the clear desk before him, his father's visit last night still wandering in his mind.

"This man believes that his father and I made an agreement to stay away from Smallville. He's upset that the plant has been reopened and he means to scare you off." Lionel Luthor stood in Lex's office as Lex sat in his arm chair.

"Don't worry Dad. I'm not about to be scared away." Lex said as he stood up. "Or do you think that I'm about to let an unknown corporate misfit chase me away just because our daddies made an unwritten agreement."

"Lex this man isn't just your average corporate dropout son. He didn't go to your prep schools, he didn't take over his daddy's corporation." Lionel answered, a tone of urgency in his voice.

"Then what is he dad?" Lex asked, his voice obviously getting more and more irritated as time went on. "Some sort of do-good crusader? I can handle Dudley Do-right."

"Lex you don't understand." His father shook his head, clearly frustrated that he wasn't getting through to his son. "This man doesn't play by the rules." He moved towards the door. "You're going to have to get your hands dirty on this one Lex. I'm not going to do your dirty work for you."

"Thanks for stopping by Dad. You can see yourself out."

And that was it, as quick and as abruptly as the conversation had begun, it ended. Now Lex was left alone once more in his private sanctuary. The stained glass reflected the lights in different colors on the wooden walls and floors as the millionaire sat behind his desk, contemplating what that all had meant, and what he could do.

"Mr. Luthor." A voice Lex didn't recognize spoke to him as a familiar one from the doorway of his office.

"How did you get in here?" Lex asked, assuming that he already knew who it was.

"My name is Cain." The man answered. His hand stroking through his red hair.

"That's not what I asked." Lex said as he stood up. "I understand that your name is Eoghann MacEnghus, that my father and yours did some business together, and that you don't want the Luthor's here in Smallville. Have I about summed it up?"

"Your Father's informed you well. Do I even need to make my plea then? Leave." Cain said with an evenly flat tone.

"I don't think so." Lex said with a smirk. "But you're welcome to excuse yourself from the premises. I assume since you showed yourself in you can show yourself out."

"Come now Lex. If our father's could reach an agreement so can we." The red haired man said with a smile.

"I'm sorry, really I am, but I have this thing about doing business with convicted murderers." Lex said as he stood up.

"You must have me confused with someone else." The red haired man said as he stepped forward.

"No I don't. 1976 you killed two men here in Smallville. It seems that your father and my father got into a disagreement, and while arguing you somehow killed two men that were with them. Puncture wounds through the torso and neck." Lex argued, laying a folder on the table between the two.

"Do I look that old?" The man asked. "I wouldn't have been born yet."

"According to my father you looked exactly like you do now." Lex refuted.

"How is that possible?" The man asked as he picked up the folder in front of him, seeming to flip through it.

"I don't know Mr. MacEnghus, but I assure you, I intend to find out." Lex said as he sat back down, a confident smirk on his face as he sipped his Scotch.

"I'd be careful Mr. Luthor. You're starting to sound... eccentric." The red haired man said as he placed the folder back on the table.

"You can show yourself out." Lex reiterated.

"Good day Mr. Luthor."

The man was gone as quickly as he had come, the door swinging shut behind him, ending the conversation, but not that battle. This was just the first stroke. The first clash of the swords. There were many more to come.

Sunlight streamed through the windows of the Kent family farmhouse. The members of the family were already up and about in their daily chores. Clark was out tossing hay bales in the barn, Jonathan was working with the cattle out in the fields, and Martha was working in the garden with her trusty spade. It seemed a rather picture-perfect scene to anyone passing by, and in truth it was. All of them were perfectly happy, after all, why shouldn't they be?

The Kents are one of the few families in the world that have learned the true secret to happiness. Being content with what you have. In other words, all they need to be a happy family is to try and be happy with what they have, not long for things they can't attain, and become unhappy with what it is they hold in their possessions. That is after all, a temptation that many of us face. Every day.

The scene was interrupted as a jet black limo pulled into the dirt drive way of the Kent farm, kicking up the dust around it as it pulled through. It seemed unnaturally urban for this rural environment.

The young Clark Kent came from the barn to greet it in his flannel shirt. For who else could it be but the resident millionaire Lex Luthor, one of Clark's good friends.

Appearances are the one thing that mankind finds it so easy to manipulate, and yet so easy to believe at the same time. For example, Lex seems to remember the appearance of him hitting Clark with a car going sixty miles an hour off of a bridge. Surely however this didn't happen, or else Clark would have died, for Clark appeared to be just another average farm boy, covered in hay and flannel.

"Hey Lex." Clark said as the car pulled to a stop, the back door opening by itself.

Clark had to stop for a second when he realized his mistake. It wasn't Lex at all. This man had a full head of red hair, and his green eyes shone with a familiar look that he remembered from the Talon the night before.

"Mr. Kent I presume?" The man asked with a slight smile. He didn't seem that much older than Clark at all. Probably a little bit older, as he must have been in his twenties. He dressed as though he were older, but he looked very young. Young enough to be Clark's age.

"Well uh... My dad's out in the field..." Clark started. He remembered the man, and he remembered the man leaving the scene... did he have anything to do with the beat up men in the alley.

"I see." The man said with a smile. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you lad. Me name's Cain." He said offering his hand for a shake. He was dressed in a suit and coat similar to the one he had been wearing the night before but with a different undershirt and tie, his hands uncovered.

Clark shook the hand in greeting. "Clark Kent." He said with a nod.

"I gathered." The man said. "Now about your father... Is there any chance I can speak to him?"

"You can speak to me... If possible. What is this all about?" The voice of Martha Kent seemed to make the situation more at-home.

"Mom. This is... Cain... He was with me and Lana at the Talon last night." Clark made the awkward introductions.

"Nice to meet you Misses Kent." The man said with a smile. "I just wanted to talk to your husband a bit. It seems that our father's were old friends. I was hoping I could ask him a few questions, see if he might know anything that could help me."

"Well please..." Martha said with a nod. "Come inside." She turned to Clark. "Go get your father, tell him that uh Mr..." She paused at not being able to recall the last name.

"MacEnghus." The man said with a slight nod.

"MacEnghus is here." Martha said as she gestured towards the house, beckoning the man to walk with her into the yellow farm house that stood surrounded by the white picket fence.

Blood. It ties together many men, brothers, family, fathers, sons. It is such a unique tie, found in so many different variations, and yet it is more common than man himself. What more could there be between men than blood tying them together? It is said that blood is thicker than water, and this is of course true in physics. Blood has a higher density than water, but then why is it that water can so easily wipe the blood off of a pair of guilty hands?

Cain MacEnghus sat with his hands resting on the dining room table of the Kent family farmhouse. Martha Kent was busy preparing him a cup of coffee, like a good hostess, as Jonathan and Clark came in.

Clark's eyes seemed to meet the stranger's unhaltingly, and yet it was easily sensible that Clark seemed uneasy around the stranger. Almost unsure as to what it is he did after he left the Talon the previous night.

"Mr. Kent I presume?" Cain said as he stood up, offering his hand to shake. Jonathan shook it with a slight nod.

"You'd be right. Mr..." He seemed to pause at the last name, not just because he didn't know what it was, but perhaps he had forgotten how to pronounce it.

"MacEnghus, but please call me Cain." The red headed man said as he returned to the seat that Mrs. Kent had assigned to him.

"What can I do for you?" Jonathan asked sitting down.

"Well I was wondering if you might be able to return something to me." The red headed man began.

There was an obvious look of confusion on the faces of those in the room. They had never even seen or met this man before, and here he was asking for something from them that they didn't seem to realize existed.

"Let me explain." The man started. "My father is a man by the name of Michael Saint. You might not have heard of Saint Industries. The company originated in Scotland, and never moved to the U.S. until it was bought out by McKinley Enterprises two years ago after my father's disappearance. My father, Michael Saint, came to the states only once. This was more than forty years ago. He came to investigate some Native American..." He paused as if searching for the right words. "Legends. He always was a little too interested in mythology." He muttered the last part almost under his breath, though everyone heard it. "Anyway, the man who helped him in his endeavor was a man by the name of Kent. This man was a good friend to my father. When my father left Smallville he left behind an artifact that the two had found, a small ring."

"Well I'd like to help you." Mr. Kent started. "But I don't remember my father ever mentioning anyone by the name of Saint."

"I understand that Mr. Kent. Please, let me continue." The red headed man, Cain, said as he folded his hands in front of him. The nod from Mr. Kent allowed him to continue. "The ring was small, too small for an adult's hand. It had inscriptions on the sides however of a script that was... unusual. Not found elsewhere. Your father used to wear it on a necklace chain I believe, and if memory serves, his will indicated that it was to be buried on the property at his death."

"How do you know all that?" Jonathan asked, leaning forward.

"My father's memoirs." Cain answered. "They detail exactly where on the farm the ring was agreed to be buried, if my father never returned for it."

"Why is this ring so important to you?" Jonathan asked. Martha and Clark seemed to be rather interested as well, but both were content on listening rather than speaking.

"I wouldn't expect you to understand Mr. Kent. I suppose it is because my father, when he mentions it in his memoirs, speaks of it as the greatest thing he had ever achieved in life. I suppose I'm looking for it as a memento to remember him by since we lost him." Cain answered.

"Well... I'm sorry for your loss." Mr. Kent said with a small hint of thoughtfulness in his voice.

"Mr. Kent. It's said that this ring can give one the ability to kill the gods. That is in the Native American Legends. I can promise you that if others knew about its existence they would be looking for it too. Despite its one of a kind value, and its sentimental value, its power is said to be colossal." The red headed man said.

"You don't actually believe all that power stuff do you? The legends and whatnot?" Clark stepped in and asked.

"Who knows whether or not it's true." Cain said with a slight smile. "My father believed it. In his memoirs he claims to have seen it fire a radiation that opened a door in the walls of a cave that hadn't been there before."

The looks on the Kent's faces showed that they were at least interested in the ring that this man was speaking of. If such a thing existed it certainly held a lot of interest to this family. Perhaps too much interested, he needed them to be willing to find it, but he also seemed to need them to be willing to hand it over to him.

"Please Mr. Kent." The man asked.

"I suppose we can look around for it a bit..." Mr. Kent answered. "But I can't make you any promises."

"Thank you Mr. Kent." The man smiled. "I'm sure you'll do your best." The man stood up and shook Mr. Kent's hand.

"Did the Sheriff ever catch up with you last night?" Clark asked suddenly, changing the subject.

"The Sheriff?" The man asked raising a brow.

"You were the only witness to the incident at the Talon last night. Other than Lana." Clark answered.

"I'll be sure to stop by the Sheriff's office." The man said with a slight smile. "Though I'm sure the waitress remembered it all quite vividly." He nodded ever so slightly. It seemed that this conversation was coming to a close, the man was leaving, and slowly but surely made his way out of the farm house and onto the street.

Curiosity, it drives so many to so much, leaving so few with so little. Information, knowledge, wisdom, all is gained through the simple operation of curiosity within the human mind. It forms questions, and drives us to seek the answers to those questions. What we do with those answers is up to us. Sometimes we seek new answers once we have some, because we find ourselves incapable of believing what we have already come to find.

"So who is this demon that attacked you? An angel of mercy or a demon of vengeance?" A young blonde reporter asked with audio recorder stuck through the bars of Smallville's local prison.

"He was... a monster. Those red eyes... He came out of nowhere. He was just there springing out of the shadows one minute and gone the next." The man behind the bars answered, a cast around his neck and on his left leg, and bandages all over his rib cage. He was one of the ones that had been tossed against the fence. He was one of the accomplices, not the perpetrator himself.

"What did he look like?" The reporter asked.

"He was tall... Built... red hair... red eyes, a black body, but with white skin."

"You mean he was wearing black clothes?" The reporter asked.

"Yeah... Or something like that. I don't know. I only caught glimpses of him. He was quick and he hit like a hammer. This is all from one punch."

"Just one?" The reporter didn't seem to fully believe what she was hearing.

"Just one."

* * *

**Please Remember to Review! **


	5. Interview

**Author's Note:** I apologize for the fact that this chapter has forced you to wait so long between chapters. I'll remind you to please review. I really enjoy reading what other people think of my work, their critiques, their advice, their questions, I'll answer and respond to them if I'm able.**  
**

* * *

** Chapter 4: Interview **

Routine it is something that every person strives to achieve in one's daily life. In business it is essential. Efficiency is often benefitted by routine, ensuring that tasks are accomplished. An employee's routine of opening a coffee shop for example. You let yourself in, you prepare the shop, set up the chairs, turn on the machines, turn on the lights, make sure everything is ready and stocked, then you un lock the doors to allow the customers to enter and consume your coffee.

Routine usually includes the familiarity of the faces that enter your coffee shop. For example, Martha Kent, usually stopped by in the morning, the town Sheriff usually stopped by for a pick me up before going on duty, and good friends always stopped by.

"So how's the story coming?" Lana asked as Chloe Sullivan the familiar blonde came up to the counter.

"Meh, it's coming. Not much to go on though. The police think the victims were under the influence during the attack and when they... well... were here." The girl paused, suddenly realizing that the subject might be a sensitive one. "Sorry. Journalistic passion."

"It's okay Chloe, I've kind of put it behind me." Lana said with a slight nod of her head that showed a confidence lacking in muster.

"Okay." Chloe said with a small smile, trying to be encouraging. "But doesn't it freak you out that it almost happened, like right here?" She asked, trying to get closer to the truth. "What would you have done if Clark wasn't here?"

"I... I don't know..." Lana paused, recalling the incident to mind once again despite her tries to forget it. It seemed that the more and more she thought about it, the more and more unreal it seemed. "Well Clark wasn't much help anyway, it was that red headed man."

"Red head?" Chloe asked, her curiosity suddenly resumed.

"Well you know what I mean. He had red hair." Lana laughed as she set Chloe's usual drink in front of her.

"The guys that tried to... they mentioned a man with red hair in the interview. Called him some sort of monster." Chloe said with her eyebrows raised ever so slightly.

"I... he's not a monster..." Lana defended him, though she wasn't sure why. She could recall that he seemed like he might have done worse to them then what they were planning to do to her, but... he had protected her. "That whole scene is just a blur."

"It's okay, we don't have to get into it if you don't want to. But if you need a friend to talk to... I'm always around." Chloe said as she picked up her coffee.

"Thanks Chloe." Lana said with a nod. "That means a lot." She said as she picked up her coffee tray in order to deliver people's orders to their tables.

"Any time." Chloe said with a small smile as she picked up her coffee and readjusted her large bookbag/purse hybrid as it hung from her shoulder and rested on her hip.

It was then that an unfamiliar face to many came into the Talon. Though the waitress recognized him, she had been remembering his face almost every minute since the incident. The red shoulder length hair seemed a familiar sight by the time she saw it again.

"Morning lass." He said with a smile. "Can I get an Caramel Frap with a shot of espresso?" The red haired man asked with a smile. He was dressed in a business suit black and white with a red tie, and an emerald green pin in his suit coat pocket.

"Sure thing. On the house." Lana said with a smile.

"Ah you don't need to do that lass." He said as he came up to the counter.

"Consider it my way of saying thank you for the other night." Lana said as she dug behind the counter for the cup she was looking for.

"Well thank ye lass." The man said with a smile as he took a seat at the bar.

"Hi." A girl's voice next to him said rather suddenly.

"Good morning." The man said looking to the blonde girl with a curious look on his face.

"My name's Chloe. Chloe Sullivan." She offered her hand for a handshake. "Are you the one that saved Lana?"

"I suppose you could say that." He said as he shook her hand.

"Do you have a name?" She asked, sitting down next to him.

"Yes." The man said with a small smile, and a bit of a laugh. "Would you like to hear it?"

Chloe laughed. "I'm sorry. I'm a reporter, and I'm doing an article on the uh... incident," she glanced to Lana. "For the town paper. Would you be against an interview?"

"Well..." He glanced to his watch and then to Lana, and then back to the girl asking him questions. "Sure. I've got some time."

"Great!" Chloe said with her smile radiating from her face as she sprung the audio recorder from her bag as if he might change his mind and disappear. She set it on and then sat down, brushing her self off a bit to give herself a more professional look. "Now, why don't we start with the basics." She said with a smile. "First, what is your name?"

"Cain." The red headed man answered with a nod.

"Is that your last name?" Chloe asked.

"No." He answered. "It's what everyone calls me. My last name is MacEnghus. It was my mother's maiden name."

"I see." Chloe said with a nod. "And what brings you to Smallville, Mr. MacEnghus?"

"Business. Specifically, business with the Luthors." Cain answered. "My father and Lionel made an agreement a number of years ago, and Lex has broken it. I'm here to ask him to uphold it."

"What was the agreement?" Chloe asked, her curiosity ever growing in her mind.

"I'm afraid that's not for me to say." Cain answered with a shake of his head. "Sufficed to say," He paused. "I do not believe Lex is going to uphold it."

"So what do you plan to do?" Chloe asked as she restrained herself once again.

"I plan to stick around, wait and see what happens. Meanwhile I'm looking into something that pertains to more personal matters." He answered.

"Would you mind sharing those?" Chloe asked with a smile returning.

"I won't go into details." Cain shook his head. "But my father was here a few years prior to the latest meteor shower, he left something to a friend's safekeeping, a personal keepsake."

"The latest meteor shower? As far as I know there was only one." Chloe laughed a bit as she began sipping her coffee again.

"Check your history books well." Cain smiled. "There's been confirmed meteor strikes in this area for the last few centuries. The one that took place in eighty-eight was just the largest that has ever been recorded."

"Really?" Chloe asked looking to Lana, who now looked much more interested than she had been.

"An interesting fact isn't it?" Cain asked with a smile as he sipped his own coffee.

"It is." Chloe said with her usual cheerfulness. "I'll have to look into that."

"So what is it you wanted to ask me about the night of the uh... event." Cain said with a smile. "Or did we get so side tracked?"

"Oh, right, sorry." Chloe said straightening up. "So how do you recall the events? Can you tell me what happened?"

"Well uh... I came in here to get some coffee, and a danish. When I was leaving there were a few boys here who... well they were giving the waitress a hard time."

"And you the dashing hero stepped in to save the day?" Chloe asked with a brow slightly raised.

"My late wife was..." Cain started and then stopped. "Let's just say I take it rather personally when I see violence against an innocent woman."

"So you stepped in?" Chloe asked.

"Yes." He nodded before he took another sip of his coffee. "I stepped between the waitress and the boys and... stared them down. They apparently didn't like the fact that there was someone else here. So they left. Then another boy arrived,"

"Clark." Lana added his name.

"Yeah. Clark. And then once your friend here was safe, I went outside to talk to my driver and call the police." Cain nodded.

"After Lana had hit the panic button?" Chloe asked.

"I hadn't realized that she'd hit a panic button." Cain admitted. "I just did what I thought was proper."

"But you didn't wait for the police to arrive?" Chloe's voice seemed to be filling with more and more excitement.

"You seem to be very well informed." Cain complimented. "Have you already talked to my driver?"

"Is he here? I'd love to get a statement." Chloe suggested.

Cain laughed, not a true laugh, or a slight chuckle, but the laugh of a man trying to change the subject. "I'm sure he'd be willing to talk with you."

"But you haven't answered the question." Chloe brought the subject back. "Why didn't you wait for the police?"

By this time Lana had taken a break from serving as the time permitted and was standing behind the counter at which the interview was taking place. It seemed she too was curious to know why he hadn't waited.

"I had an appointment with the Luthors that I was already late for. I resolved to stop by the police station later and issue a statement." Cain answered with a nod.

"And have you?" Chloe inquired.

"Not yet. I decided I'd get some coffee first." He smiled as he raised his cup.

"And your driver can collaborate your story?" Chloe raised a brow.

"Yes... why?" Cain asked.

"The men who attacked Lana... they were attacked out in the alley behind the Talon." Chloe explained.

"By who?" Cain asked with a certain tone of curiosity in his voice.

"The police don't know. The guys keep claiming they were attacked by a beast." Chloe answered, a slight tone of sarcastic confidence in her words.

"Going for an insanity plea?" Cain smirked.

"That's what I said." Chloe smiled as she finished off her coffee.

Cain smirked as he set his half finished cup down. "So where are the men who did this?" Cain asked.

"Police station. For now." Chloe answered.

"For now?" Lana asked, looking with wide eyes to Chloe.

"The courts say that you don't have enough evidence. It's all just hearsay. So unless by some miracle these guys plea guilty... they'll probably be out by tomorrow." Chloe explained.

"That's not fair." Lana protested.

"That's the justice system." Cain smirked. "No offense." He said looking to Lana. "But I wouldn't worry about it. I'll see to it that my lawyers have that motion removed and that charges are pressed. I'll stop by the police station now and give my statement." He said as he stood up.

"So I guess that's the end of the interview?" Chloe asked.

"I guess so." Cain laughed, combing back his red hair before he shook hands with Chloe as she thanked him for his time, and the interview.

Deceiving. The act of deliberately misleading someone into believing something false. It does not necessarily mean lying, it is simply the act of getting someone to make the wrong assumption. There are some who use deception for their own selfish gain, while others use it so that they may protect those who still hold a shred of innocence in this depraved world. For a specific example, Cain had deceived everyone he had spoken to thus far. So many believed that he was here on business with the Luthors.

"Did you find out what happened to those men?" The driver asked as he started the limousine just outside the Talon, after the red headed business man had gotten in. The driver too had red hair, though it was longer then Cain's, and tied back into a pony tail with a driver's hat and suit covering him rather then the expensive business attire of a multi-millionaire. They looked to be about the same age though, the driver probably a little bit older, but not by more then half a decade.

"Yeah. They're being kept in the town police station not far from here, but they're not our main priority. We need to get to the caves." Cain answered as he looked out the window to watch the town pass them by as they moved.

"I know." The driver answered. "One step at a time. The caves are currently under constant surveillance by Luthor Corp."

"And we're not going to convince Lex to leave town." Cain responded. "That means that if we want to get to the caves..."

"What about the Kent boy?" The driver asked.

"What about him? I already have the family looking for the artifact." Can answered.

"Part of my job, local research." The driver said as he passed back a newspaper. The paper itself had a picture of the Kent's barn on it, with a symbol of sorts burned into the side of the barn.

"My aliens a bit rusty." Cain answered. "Any idea what it means?"

"Malsen's working on it." The driver answered. "But he thinks it's from a red star system not too far from here."

"Is that good news?" Can asked raising a brow ever so slightly.

"We don't know yet." The driver answered with a slight smile. "It means we need the artifact, and a better look at those caves."

"I can't believe the meteor strike here went overlooked." Cain said as he shook his head.

"It didn't." The driver answered. "Gabriel came out to investigate, but there was nothing abnormal reported other than a significant amount of radiation from the meteors that struck. It was thought to be harmless electromagnetic radiation similar to that of infrared, but a little while ago the radiation began to register on a larger scale, having an effect on human bystanders who were over exposed to the radiation." The driver's eyes glanced upwards in the mirror to look to Cain.

"How do you know all of this?" Cain asked, looking at his driver in disbelief.

"I told you I've been doing research." The driver laughed. "I use the time between drives."

"You use it well." Cain laughed. "You hungry? I think there's a diner somewhere in this town."

"What about the men sir?" The driver asked.

"Stop calling me sir." Cain said with a slightly annoyed tone in his voice. "And they can wait until after breakfast."

"With the police waiting for a statement?" The driver asked.

"Fine. The police station then. We'll go to brunch afterwards." Cain answered as he finished looking at the newspaper and set it down next to him on the car seat.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Please remember to review! No reviews means no fifth chapter! 


End file.
